Universities and Empire MONEY AND POLITICS IN THE SOCIAL SCIENCES DURING THE COLD WAR Edited and Introduced by Christopher Simpson THE NEW PRESS * NEW YORK 1998 (Slava Gerovitch) Writing History in the Present Tense: Cold War-era Discursive Strategies of Soviet Historians of Science and Technology The study of Soviet discourse is a fascinating journey through multiple layers of meaning, exquisite rhetorical feats, and intentional paradoxes. Soviet leaders fairly early arrived at the idea of supplementing direct political censorship with more subtle ideological controls over disciplinary discourses. However, their attempts to supervise and homogenize public discourse simply did not reach its goals. The fragmented and unstable real­ ity of Soviet discourse was a far cry from the (purported) perfect orderliness of totalitarian discourse, so vividly imagined in George Orwell’s 1984 and in various Orwell-inspired studies.1 Only recently have scholars begun to explore the tensions, in­ consistencies, and uncertainties of Soviet discursive practices. Studies of political discourse provided a few illustrative examples of the complexities involved. Michael Gorham, for instance, has pointed to an essential conflict in Soviet political discourse: The more colloquial a tone Soviet propaganda assumed, the less it was capable of conveying abstract ideas and political symbols of the central state. When sophisticated political language was em­ ployed, it often caused frustration, distrust, and alienation on the part of peasants and workers.2 In another study, Rachel Walker 189 SLAVA GEROVITCH identified a “linguistic paradox” in Soviet political discourse, which stemmed from the necessity for Soviet leaders to maintain the appearance of continuity with the teachings of Marx and Le­ nin, and at the same time “creatively develop” Marxist-Leninist doctrine.3 An even more complex picture emerges when we turn from political texts to various disciplinary discourses characteristic of the Soviet academic community. The Soviet state both tried to control professionals and needed their expertise, and this re­ sulted in a tangled and paradoxical structure of discourse. State and party officials promoted those practices that fit the contem­ porary political agenda, while professionals sought legitimation and support from those in power. Tensions within both official political discourse and professional discourses produced a con­ siderable room for maneuver and negotiation. Rather than portraying professional discourses as mere ser­ vants of the state or victims of totalitarian oppression, it may be more productive to speak of discursive strategies developed by professionals themselves in attempt to adapt their knowledge to the current political, socioeconomic, and cultural situation, and to influence this situation at the same time. Such discursive strategies had to be flexible enough to take advantage of the ten­ sions within public discourse. On the other hand, in order to keep up with sociopolitical changes, professionals would have to frequently modify these strategies. In this article, I will argue that Soviet historians of science and technology have developed a number of such discursive strate­ gies and that these have shaped the face of their discipline as a whole, as well as influenced those historians’ individual research agendas and methods. I will examine how Soviet historians of science and technology shifted their discursive strategies in par­ allel with the political and social evolution of Soviet society. I will attempt to place Soviet historical research in an institutional con­ text, focusing on the role of the Academy of Sciences. In the conclusion, I will compare the discursive strategies that Ameri­ can and Soviet scholars developed in the context of the Cold War. 190 WRITING HISTORY IN THE PRESENT TENSE Early Soviet Years: Two Academies Contend for the Past The Soviet Union was the first country in the world to institution­ alize the study of the history of science and technology.4 On the initiative of the prominent geochemist and mineralogist Vladimir Vernadskii, the Russian Academy of Sciences set up the Commis­ sion on the History of Knowledge in May i9 2i.5The commission, he hoped, would help raise the prestige of national science and remind the Bolshevik authorities (like the tsarist authorities be­ fore them) of the necessity to support academic research, par­ ticularly in view of proposals to close the academy down that were circulating at the time. Vernadskii ascribed a primary role in the advancement of sci­ ence to the periodic “clustering” of individual geniuses, which he viewed as a natural phenomenon subject to quantitative regulari­ ties. At the same time, however, he stressed the importance of favorable social and economic conditions— which was to say, adequate financial and political support— for great “explosions” of scientific thought. “As a professor under tsarism [Vernadskii] had witnessed the blighting effects of politics and inadequate funding on science, and he hoped for better conditions under the Soviet government,” the American historian of Russian science Loren Graham has noted.6 Militant Marxists scientists of the day downplayed the achieve­ ments of national science in their attempt to undermine the prestige of the Academy of Sciences, in which many saw a stronghold of the old regime and a rival to a recently founded Communist Academy.7 Many regarded Tsarist Russia as an op­ pressive regime under which nothing, science included, could possibly have prospered.8 Vernadskii’s commission, in contrast, chose to capitalize on Russia’s prerevolutionary scientific heri­ tage and take advantage of Marx and Lenin’s vision of scientific advancement as integral to socialism as an effective discursive strategy for political protection of the Academy of Sciences under Bolshevik rule. 191 SLAVA GEROVITCH Probably the most famous manifestation (in the West) of the discursive style of the Marxist-oriented Soviet historians of sci­ ence and technology during this period was Boris Hessen’s pa­ per “The Social and Economic Roots of Newton’s Principia,” which created a furor at the Second International Congress of the History of Science in London in 1931. Elaborating on the Marxist thesis of the primacy of productive forces in the development of knowledge, Hessen contended that Newton’s scientific activity was in essence a response to the social and economic needs of contemporary England— building new machines and weapons, as well as the creation of a new worldview that could reconcile religious dogmas with a new social and economic order. “New­ ton," Hessen maintained, “was a typical representative of the rising bourgeoisie, and in his philosophy he embodied the char­ acteristic features of his class.”9 Hessen, a prominent physicist and historian of science, had himself come under fire inside the Soviet Union when he at­ tempted to defend Einsteinian physics, which was viewed by mili­ tant Marxist critics with considerable suspicion. Hessen’s analysis of Newton became in part a means for him to challenge his opponents with their own weapon— a Marxist analysis of science— taken to the extreme. Hessen subjected Newton to the same kind of class-based criticism as his opponents were direct­ ing against Einstein. “Hessen was illustrating that Marxists should simultaneously recognize the value of Newton’s physics, even though it developed in mercantilist England and was used as a tool to support religion, and the value of Einstein’s and Bohr’s physics, while acknowledging that they arose in imperial­ ist Europe and are often used to counter Marxism,” as historian Loren Graham has written.10 Hessen’s discursive “ju-jitsu” strategy produced a piece of scholarship that was taken quite seriously in the West.11 Accord­ ing to the Dictionary of the History of Science, Hessen’s paper has become instrumental in establishing the “externalist” method­ ological approach to historical studies, which emphasizes the 192 WRITING HISTORY IN THE PRESENT TENSE role of broad social and economic forces in defining the content and evolution of scientific knowledge.12 By the early 1930s, the Bolshevik Party established its strong political influence in the Academy of Sciences and trusted the latter with virtual monopoly over fundamental research.13 As the academy was gaining political respectability, study of the history of science obtained new legitimacy and influence. In 1932, the Academy of Sciences established the Institute for the History of Science and Technology under the direction of the prominent Bolshevik Nikolai Bukharin.14 On becoming the institute’s direc­ tor, he encouraged a broad range of historical studies, not neces­ sarily Marxist. Unfortunately, Bukharin’s political career was already in decline when he became the Institute’s director, and soon an association with him cast a deep shadow on the entire field of the history of science and technology. Bukharin was ar­ rested and accused of treason, which led to the denunciation and closure of the institute in February 1938. Many independent- minded Marxist scholars including Hessen and Bukharin, fell vic­ tims to the Great Terror. The crackdown on prominent, yet independent Marxist schol­ ars “signaled the demise of systematic efforts to apply classical Marxist theory to the study of the history of science,” the Ameri­ can historian of Russian science Alexander Vucinich has writ­ ten.15 This is not to say that the number of reverential quotations from Marx and Marxist sounding terms to any degree decreased in academic writings; on the contrary, such signs of loyalty were being packed into historians’ works more densely than ever. The new scholarship, however, was not Marxist, but rather “Marxy,” that is, imitating Marxist language with little real correlation with Marx’s method or teachings. Being a language with little theoreti­ cal substance, “Marxyism” had almost unlimited malleability, which allowed it to be shaped to the political requirements of any given moment. Serious Marxist research was no longer a suc­ cessful discursive strategy and could in fact be dangerous. The display of “partyness" (loyalty to the party line) became the order of the day.